I did it. I went through training with a 22 year-old and survived even though she was about the same age as the underwear I had one. You can click here to read yesterday’s post about how I felt about having to go in to work early for some training. It turns out that those 22 year-olds really know what they’re talking about. I mean, did you know that when taking a drink off a tray with one hand you should move your other one that you are holding the tray with ever so slightly to maintain the balance of the tray? Alert the news media! Tweet it! Tell the new Pope to send out another smoke signal because this is big news.
Another piece of vital information that was passed on to me were these words: “Never argue with a guest and give up the need to be right.” This is a very simple rule for me to follow because in order to argue with a guest, it would mean I have to give a shit and I have absolutely no shit left to give. The last time I gave a shit, it was in a paper bag that I set on fire on the porch of my high school drama teacher, Mrs. Deheul. I don’t argue with customers. I smile at them and then walk to the side stand and tell one of my co-workers how stupid the bitch at Table 27 is. I then jot down a few notes so that when I blog about the dumb bitch, I will have some every specific details. And what point is there to disagree with a customer? I gave up the need to be right the day I put on my first pair of slip-resistant shoes because there is nothing right about those ugly fucks. One time someone ordered the New York Stripe Steak. I could have told them it was a strip steak, but that would have meant that I cared and I didn’t. “One New York Stripe Steak, comin’ right up!” I said.
Another point that came down from management was this pearl of wisdom that fell out of an oyster’s ass” “Make all guests feel like they are the only one.” Okay, sure. If that means I can ignore the other people in my station, then I am all for it. Say I am taking an order at Table 4 and as I am talking to them, the asshole at Table 5 is snapping his fingers at me. I will just ignore Table 5 because I want to give Table 4 the impression that they are the only ones in the restaurant.
Me: Our special tonight is pan-seared cod that we will put extra sauce on to disguise the fact that the fish is past its peak and-
Table 5: Hey, waiter!
Me: …it is served with haricot verte and garlic mashed potatoes…
Table 5: Hey, waiter! (snap, snap)
Table 4: I think that man is trying to get your attention.
Me: What man?
Table 4: The man at the next table who is waving his arms and snapping his fingers at you.
Me: I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you having hallucinations, because you are the only customer I see here. I know this to be true, because management told me so. If you are seeing someone else in this restaurant you must be high on drugs and I will have to call the police. You’re the only one here. You are the only one here.
We also have a new rule that tells us we should check back to our table a minimum of six times to make sure they have everything they need. I think that’s a great idea because everyone wants a waiter to be at their table every three minutes to hover around like a fruit fly on an old banana. Maybe we should just suspend ourselves on wires so we can drop down from the ceiling every thirty seconds to let them know we’re watching them. If I was in a restaurant and my server asked me if I needed anything on six different occasions, I would want to punch him in his nut sack. I’d still leave him a 20% tip, but he’d also get a cunt punch.
After training ended, I started my shift and gave the same level of service I have always given which is somewhere between adequate and half-assed. My tips were great so I felt that all was fine in my station. Did the additional “training” help me earn those tips? Who knows? All I know for certain is that somewhere in this world, a baby was born today that in twenty-two years is going to be training me on how to be a better waiter. I can’t wait to meet that person.
After the shift, the bartender created a special shift-drink just for me. It had Absolute Hibiscus vodka, pineapple juice and cranberry. He named it Hi-bitch-cus Martini. All in all, a good night at work.